The Assignment
by scottishbelle
Summary: Hermione is left behind at Hogwarts her senior year while Harry and Ron leave to destroy Horcruxes. As Head Girl, Hermione has her hands full... But can she handle sharing her duties with the nefarious Draco Malfoy, Head Boy? And will she survive McGonagall's shocking special assignment?
1. Chapter 1

****Author's Note: I began this story four years ago, and it is finally getting revamped and finished! Please leave your thoughts in the reviews, and I look forward to hearing from you!**

Hermione was frustrated. She had an entire list of tasks waiting for her as Head Girl: tutoring, organizing the prefects' next meeting, and later she needed to find to time to speak with some terrified first years. But she couldn't do anything until she finished this damn potions essay, and just couldn't find a consistent list of ingredients and measurements for a Creatrix Potion, even though she had checked so many sources that she was almost hidden behind piles of alchemy books in the library.

With a huff of dissatisfaction, Hermione closed the last book - her final hope of finding the missing ingredient - and leaned back in her chair to plan her next move.

She could look into the more obscure books, texts where her information would be less and less likely to exist. That could take hours. Her to-do list wiggled in her pocket, charmed to do so when it was time to move on to the next item on the checklist. She didn't have hours.

Her only other option was far from preferable, and in a secret part of her heart made her just a bit nervous, though she had been careful to never show her fear to others. She doubted it would work, but it was her only choice to even have a chance to get her other tasks today.

She would ask Snape.

Decision made, Hermione packed her bag and left the library. She spent her walk practicing what she would say, hoping to make this visit as smooth as possible, and wasn't paying adequate attention to where she was walking. Which explains her complete and utter surprise when she rounded a corner to Snape's door and ran smack into a warm, hard chest wrapped in a green and silver sweater.

The collision caused her books stuffed with scrolls to slip from her hands and fall to the ground. Quickly she dropped to her knees to gather what had spread in every direction, and picked up one scroll only to realize it was stuck under a pair of muddy shoes. Hermione looked up into clear grey eyes and deepening scowl of Draco Malfoy. He insolently raised his eyebrow and slowly lifted his foot, leaving traces of mud all over her work.

Hermione hissed, "What is wrong with you?" but Draco had already whirled about and started to move down the hall without a second glance in her direction. His scowl was all that stayed, rearranging itself on Hermione's face as she seethed with hatred towards her old enemy. Even though Draco had been made Head Boy this year, opposite herself, his attitude would never change, and she would always be a Mudblood under his feet, beneath his notice. She flicked a bit of the goop off her paper and grimaced.

The irony was not lost on her.

Hermione raised her hand to knock on Snape's office, having gathered her things back together without any help, when a raised voice within stopped her. It was muffled through the thickness of the door, but nevertheless she could discern an arguement within.

The voice clearly wasn't Snape's. It lilted, even in anger, revealing Irish origins. "...You must! Even now, he is out there, waiting for you. And if you don't manage this within the year..." his voice quietened, and Hermione cast a temporary amplifying spell, her curiosity piqued.

"...I don't think I have to tell you how serious this is."

"You don't." Snape's drawling tones. "But I cannot leave now. Not. An. Option." She could hear his clipped consonants that always become more pronounced in anger.

Silence. Hermione could almost feel the tension permeating the wood. After a moment, she realized with a grip of fright that Snape's guest must be about to leave, and she scurried into a nearby alcove, just barely stepping into the shadows as she heard the office door creak open.

She pressed her back into the cold stone wall, having no desire to run into a stranger who had the nerve to demand things from Snape. The stranger whooshed by, and Hermione could only see dark robes and a flash of orange hair before the man turned the corner and disappeared, footsteps ringing in the hall.

Hermione waited several minutes before she exited the shadows to knock briskly on Professor Snape's door. He opened the door and looked down his crooked nose at her. He was, as usual, entirely self-composed.

Following him in, she said, "I'm sorry to bother you, Professor Snape. I need some help in finding the ingredients for the Creatrix Potion."

Snape gave her a sharp look. "Why?" he muttered, black eyes glittering at her.

"My potions essay." Hermione swallowed. "I thought to compare the preparation of the basic Confusing Concoction with a more sophisticated Creatrix Draught. You see, one uses plant-derived ingredients to induce chaos, and the Creatrix-"

Snape waved his hand, interrupting her. "Of course," he said. "You'll want to check out Sylvia's Stringent Solutions and Potions." He wrote down the title along with his signature on a form.

Hermione reached to take it from him but Snape held it a moment. "I trust, Miss Granger, that you will be discreet in the use of this book. It will be found in the Restricted Section. If you are not, I will make your life a living hell." He drawled out his last sentence, eyeing her.

"Of course," Hermione said eagerly, answers within her grasp. "Discreet as always."

Hermione snatched the parchment scrap and rapidly left the oppressive office once more. The very air in that room was still thick enough to clog Hermione's throat - though she wasn't sure how much of that could be attributed to her imagination. Between the cloying air and Snape's thinly veiled irritation, she wanted to spend as little time in there as possible.

* * *

Draco stomped through the halls, trailing mud. He knew it would take a simple spell to clean his boots, but at the moment he was glad to be trailing dirt through the halls for someone else to clean up.

Delicious irony, him cleaning up his father's mess, others cleaning up his. Almost as delicious as stomping on Hermione's schoolwork after she ran into him in the hall.

He allowed himself a brief grin at her shock. No matter how much he tortured that girl, she still seemed surprised every time. As though she expected him to change.

Unlikely.

His feet carried him deep into the dungeon, where he twisted the third candelabra set deep in the stone wall and entered the Slytherin Common Room. The room was made of grey stone, and thick green and gold tapestries covered the walls. The only light this late at night came from the fireplace, giving the room a dark and gloomy feel. Draco breathed deeply and began to relax for the first time all day.

A few students were still up playing cards around the fire. No one of consequence. Draco breathed a sigh of relief and sank into one of the thick leather armchairs that faced directly into the fire.

He really needed some time to think.

"So glad you've decided to show yourself," came a whisper in his ear. It was sultry and hot; a practiced sexual purr.

Pansy Parkinson's hand crept across his lapel and snaked down his chest. "You almost had me thinking you had found…other entertainment."

Damn. He had totally forgotten to find other entertainment.

"Stop," Draco said, plucking her ice-cold hand off his chest. "I need to be alone."

Pansy stepped carefully around the armchair and knelt before him. "I know what you need," Pansy softly said, "Just come with me."

Her small pink mouth was tempting. He knew just what she could do with it. He almost took her hand before he stopped himself.

"We're not together anymore," he reminded her.

"So you say." Pansy tilted her head. "But I know you, Draco. You'll come back to me. So why pretend?" Her hand was softly touching his, a small smile playing about her lips.

"I don't have the energy to deal with this right now."

"Because of Lucius?" Pansy asked innocently.

Draco immediately grabbed her hand and squeezed. He felt her knuckles grind together in his grip and made sure he saw the flicker of pain on her face before he asked, "What do you know about Lucius?"

"He's in Azkaban." Draco squeezed harder until she continued in a low voice, "But... the Death Eaters have decided he no longer belongs there."

"How the fuck do you know that?" Draco asked. He watched her eyes crease in pain as he refused to let go of her hand.

"Do you honestly think I wouldn't find out?" As predicted, the pain made Pansy's temper rise, and she spoke with a bite of anger. "The Death Eaters know about our…relationship."

"Bloody perfect." Draco dropped her hand. She nursed her bruised knuckles but still managed to raise one eyebrow in his direction.

Draco heard a cough from the other side of the room. He had to get away from Pansy before he really lost his temper in front of the other Slytherin students.

He angled his broad shoulders to shield Pansy from view, and traced her jaw with a fingertip. He then let his hand slide down until it was wrapped around her throat. Pansy's smug smile dropped away when his fingers squeezed.

Finally, Draco saw real fear in her eyes. "You breathe a word of this to anyone, and you'll stop breathing," he told her.

He let go and Pansy coughed. She reached out and caught his sleeve before he could leave. In a husky voice she told him, "I'm not afraid of you."

Draco just stared back, waiting for her to let go.

"You'll need me before this is over," Pansy warned, then turned and flounced up to the dormitories.

One of the younger card-playing students was shooting looks back and forth between Pansy's retreating form and Draco. Draco held his gaze, and then made an offensive gesture with his two right fingers and his tongue.

The student's eyes widened and he quickly looked down.

No longer as relaxed as he had hoped in the Common Room, Draco went to the Head Student Office. It was the one place in Hogwarts could ensure himself some privacy. He was supposed to be sharing the Office with Granger, McGonagall's predictable choice for Head Girl, but she always favored the library.

He dropped into the couch and expelled a large breath. Pansy knew about the plan - that complicated matters. But she didn't seem to know much. Draco would have tread carefully around her.

As if helping his father escape from Azkaban wasn't dangerous enough. Now he had to manage that impossible task while avoiding Pansy's snooping nose.

Exasperated, Draco stomped to the cabinet and pulled out an unopened bottle of firewhiskey.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione had hardly seen Harry and Ron all week, and she was worried they would blame her for it.

She rushed through the darkened halls of Hogwarts, heading for the Divination tower. Her to-do list in her pocket began to wiggle, and she knew she was already late.

She didn't know why Harry had asked to meet in such a secret place, but it would be the perfect opportunity to tell him about what she had overheard in Snape's office… and the mysterious man she had seen, though briefly.

Hermione finally puffed her way to the top of the tower. Her summer had not involved running up and down Hogwarts endless myriad of stairs and hallways, and so she was still breathing heavily when she entered the Divination Room and saw Harry sitting with Ron at one of the divination tables. It was late at night, and the room was dark save for a few candles hovering over the table. The light flickered over their faces as they spoke to each other quietly.

Her heart gave a brief flutter when she saw Ron in the soft candlelight; his soft red hair was lit like flames and she could pick out each gold, red, and orange undertone. She squashed the feeling mercilessly. He was still dating Lavender, and Hermione was no home-wrecker.

She sat down between her two best friends and immediately got down to business.

"Listen, I was going to Snape's office a couple days ago, and I overheard something suspicous."

Ron opened his mouth but Harry cut in first, giving him a sharp look. "What did you hear?"

"He was talking to someone I have never seen before. There's something Snape is supposed to do, like a task. I don't know what, but it seemed important."

"A mysterious task," Harry said thoughtfully, looking slightly over at Ron. "Sounds like something we should look into, especially concerning Snape. Did you happen to see the stranger?"

"He had orange hair - like your hair, Ron - and spoke in an accent. It might have been Irish, but I'm not sure. I'm really concerned about what they were saying. Do you remember what happened last year when Dumbledore almost died?"

Ron was looking at her with fear in his eyes, and Hermione immediately patted him reassuringly. "We don't even know what this task is yet, Ron, no need to assume trouble. And we know that Dumbledore is safe now, far away from Hogwarts. But I think we need to keep an eye on Snape, don't you? Ron? Harry?"

Hermione realized Ron wasn't moving, just staring at her with a terrified expression, and she pulled out her wand and poked him. "Have you been cursed with the petrificus totalus?" she teased. "I know the counter-curse if-"

"No!" Harry interrupted, taking a hold of Hermione's wand-holding hand. "We just have some news to tell you."

Ron swallowed. "That's right," he whispered. "Some news."

Hermione looked back and forth cautiously. "News more important than Snape's new mystery project?" She used air quotes around the word "project".

"I think you're right, Hermione," Harry said, thoughtfully touching his chin. "Snape could be doing something very dangerous, and one of us has to keep a close eye on him."

"It really would be better if we all kept an eye out. Thee heads are better than one."

"We're leaving." Ron sputtered out, and then closed his mouth tightly.

"Oh? Where are we going?"

"What Ron means to say," Harry said in a calming voice he might have used with a fussy owl, "Is that Ron and I are leaving Hogwarts this year." Hermione's eye's narrowed and Harry began to stumble over his words. "Dumbledore has asked us... he sent us an owl, you see... and he has given us a... well, a mission. Something to help fight Voldemort."

"Just…you and Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Harry said while Ron nodded vigorously.

Hermione thought a moment, and then burst into laughter. She laughed heartily, trying to imagine Ron and Harry off fighting the dark arts without her. Neither Ron nor Harry joined in. Her laugh faded, and real fear crept into her stomach.

Perhaps they weren't joking.

"But…what about your studies? You have to get prepare for your N.E.W.T.S. You have to get your training for when you graduate Hogwarts."

"Ron and I have made our decision," Harry told her firmly. "We have to do this. We need to defeat Voldemort."

Both boys had a solemn tilt to their mouths. Suddenly, Hermione thought they looked much older to her. Perhaps she hadn't looked that closely in the past few years, but the change was suddenly apparent. They were no longer the children that had saved her from the troll in first year, stupidly and heroicly jamming a wand into the creatures eye. Harry's hair had grown long and his shoulder's had widened, though he sat hunched as though he felt the weight of the world pulling him down. And Ron, not handsome but gangly and freckled, still showed his emotions with fearless abandon. She wished those emotions didn't include fear as often as it did these days.

"Okay," she nodded, mentally putting the conversation she had heard in Snape's office aside. "When do we leave?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other guiltily. She sensed bad news, and jumped ahead of them before they could speak, anticipating and dreading their words.

"I'm you're best friend. I'm smarter than both of you, and I know textbook spells to fight the Dark Arts," Hermione pointed out, using her finger to emphasize her points. "Clearly, it would be in both of your best interests if I came along."

"You are our best friend, that's true," Harry replied. "As as our best friend, we need you to do what's best for you. And that means you need to use your brain to make the world better."

"What better way than to use my brain to defeat Voldemort?" Hermione asked. She could feel her voice getting higher pitched, her heart rate speeding up in her chest. But she couldn't stop it. Her mind whirred quickly, ticking through her options, but seemed to be stuck on a broken record of thoughts. This couldn't be happening. They wouldn't leave her. She wasn't ready to be alone.

"Your…your N.E.W.T.S.," Ron said finally. "We can't ask you to leave Hogwarts when your education is more important to you than anything. We won't ask you." Harry nodded in agreement, and even tried to smile at her.

"My education!" Hermione repeated in a half shout, jumping to her feet. Behind her, her chair tilted over with the sudden movement and crashed to the floor, causing both Harry and Ron to jump slightly. Hermione didn't flinch. Instead, she stared down her friends. She wasn't going to beg them to bring her. They had been close for years. My education over my best friends, she thought to herself in disgust. I would never choose that. She was sure Harry and Ron knew her better than that. They were the only people in her life who should know better than that.

They said nothing to her.

Hermione felt as though hours had dragged by, and finally she had to fill the space with the sound of her voice. "If that is what you boys have decided is the most important thing to me, than who am I to argue." As she left the room, she wondered if she would ever be able to forgive them.

* * *

Hermione woke up the next morning determined to find Harry and Ron and apologize. She had simmered in anger most of the night, tossing and turning in her bed, unable to think of a logical reason behind their behavior. Still, it had taken her until morning - after her temper had cooled - when she realized there was likely something her friends weren't telling her. The pieces of the puzzle just weren't lining up right.

She should at least give them the chance. She had to believe their friendship was better than this.

She dressed quickly and rushed to the Gryffindor common room. The only person there was Neville Longbottom, looking pale and upset. She started towards the entrance to the boy's dormitory when Neville's voice called after her.

She turned, and Neville was holding out an envelope in a shaking hand. "Harry asked me to give you this," he told her.

"When did you talk to Harry?" Hermione muttered, more to herself than to Neville.

She tore open the letter as Neville slumped back into an armchair with a shrug.

As she read it, she felt her heart drop into her stomach.

Ron and Harry had already left Hogwarts.

It happened sometime between last night and this morning. She had no idea where they had gone. Ron and Harry left before she had discovered the real reason behind their decision.

A small voice told Hermione they could have talked last night, if Hermione had not lost her temper and stormed off. If she never knew why they had left her behind, it was her own fault.

For the first time in a long time, Hermione felt a bit lost, a bit like she felt in her first year of Hogwarts. Friendless. She did not welcome the feeling. It made her feel helpless, even when her brain told her she was strong and capable.

Well, she was no longer ten years old. Hermione put the note in her pocket and thanked Neville for the delivery. She had survived as a girl, so she would survive now. Hermione retrieved her scrolls and quills and then left for the library, hoping to lose herself in good, honest schoolwork.

In the library, she retrieved the books she needed, but after an hour had passed she realized she had read the same paragraph six times. Her brain wasn't working like it should. It was the atmosphere, she decided. Even the library reminded her of Harry and Ron, and her mind couldn't focus on anything but worrying over them.

Determined to get at least some work done before lunch, she piled all of her books together and left, pausing momentarily before heading to the Head Common Room. Normally she avoided the room like the plague, not wanting to be near Malfoy. But with his derelict habits, she doubted he would be up and about this early on a Saturday morning.

Hermione walked into the Common Room and dropped her books down on the carved wooden desk. A strangled snort came from the area of the couch and there was the hard thump of a glass bottle hitting the thick rug.

She almost apologized for waking up whoever was sleeping there before she realized there was only one other person who had access to the Head Common Room. Her mouth clapped shut. To satisfy her own simmering anger, she thumped her last book on the desktop with extra vehemence. Just let Draco try and pick a fight this morning.

Two blue eyes peered over the top of the couch and glared over at Hermione, sleep still creasing their corners.

"Fuck, Granger. Keep it down, would you?" He spoke in a low growl and cradled his head in his hands.

"You look wretched." It gave Hermione a fleeting moment of satisfaction.

Draco eyed her through the spaces between his fingers. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione sniffed and tossed her nose up. "Homework." She sat down facing away from him and opened her books.

* * *

Draco sneered at the brown mass of hair that now faced him. Why the shit was she here?

He moved to stand and was almost overwhelmed by a wave of dizziness; then an urge to vomit swamped his senses. Still, Draco slowly lifted himself to his feet. Granger was here, watching. Besides, he didn't drink often. And when he did, he knew how to handle himself.

He just had to drag himself back to his room, where he could make his usual hang over remedy of raw eggs mixed with a special herb Blaise liked to grow in his dorm; perhaps alongside a steaming cup of tea.

His mind drifted back to Granger, her ridiculous billowing hair invading what was supposed to be his one private solace in Hogwarts. A deep resentment burrowed deeper into his chest and he glared at the back of her head menacingly.

Through the years, Granger had a nasty habit of ruining everything.

And he wanted to punish her.

"I wouldn't turn your back on me, if I were you," he said to the silent room. He picked up his empty bottle of Firewhiskey and peered in hopefully. "I find myself in a tortuous mood this morning."

Hermione scoffed but did not move.

Draco took out his wand and twirled it between his fingers. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

He spoke a spell and suddenly Hermione's pile of books turned into a writhing mass of wet frogs.

"What?!" Hermione was startled out of her chair and fell in a graceless heap on the floor, her chair lying on its back next to her.

Draco laughed so hard he felt a cramp in his side. His hangover made laughing almost unpleasant, but he couldn't help himself. Hermione was the picture of idiocy, and it was a perfect moment. He felt immensely cheered.

Hermione stood calmly, brushed off her school uniform - she was not wearing her robes since it was a Saturday - and used her wand to spell the frogs back into books.

She then turned to Draco and pointed her wand directly at him. He was pleased to notice that despite her outward calm, her hands were quivering in anger and her eyes glinted at him like sharp shards of amber.

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her next move.

"What," she spoke quietly, "is your fucking problem?" Draco raised his eyebrows at her curse. "I am not bothering you. I simply wanted a quiet room to ..." she trailed off before finishing in a huff "... get away."

Interesting.

"My problem, Princess Perfect, is I was under the impression that the Common Room belonged to me." He gave her the nickname with a sharp side of sarcasm. "I would like to continue that plan. Please leave."

"No." He waited, but she said nothing else.

"Are you picking a fight with me?" Draco's eyes narrowed and his heartbeat sped up. "I wouldn't recommend it."

"Should I be afraid of a few frogs?" Hermione's hair almost crackled with her challenge.

Draco regarded her cooly. "You should be afraid of me." Obviously.

Hermione laughed. She actually bloody laughed in his face. Then, without another word, she turned her back on him, again, and sat back down, ostensibly to continue her now-restored homework.

He felt as though he was boiling in anger. His face felt red, and his hands shook. How dare she laugh at him.

He moved to stand directly behind her, intimidating her with his presence. She didn't flinch. He bent over her, and with one hand he touched her cheek softly, then moved to tuck her hair behind her ear. His other hand suddenly jammed his wand into her side, and he was rewarded with her sharp intake of breath.

"So this is how it's going to be?" he whispered. "Once I am done, you will be trembling in fear. And there will be no Harry or Ron around to save you."

The taunt left a sweet taste in his mouth.

"Well," Hermione whispered back. "At least I don't continue to rely on a father who's still in Azkaban for attacking children."

Draco almost frowned as the memory of his newest project assaulted his mind. He had managed to forget about the debacle concerning his father since he had woken up. Granger had completely distracted him.

"Go fuck a wand, Granger," Draco muttered darkly, and stalked out of the room. He had better things to do today.


End file.
